Inner Monologues
by Becca the Evil
Summary: Hermione and Harry have thoughts about their seventh year at Hogwarts. H/Hr...::giggles insanely:: Read and Review...tell me if you want a sequel or anything at all! :-)


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Title: Inner Monologues

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Author: Becca the Evil

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Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for the words that follow. That's it. Oh yea, ::checks pocket:: I own...$1.32 in change, some old lipgloss, and some gray lint.

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Author's Note: This is my first sad attempt at romance. I'm still unsure about my ships too, so this is pushing the borderline. ::buries her head inshame:: I can't believe how terrible this came out to be! In reality, it's just something to help me with the process of writing before this amazing pent-up idea I feel forming in my head surfaces. Once it's fully formed, no one will be able to stop me from pouring my heart out. ;-) A big thank you to my wonderful first Beta reader, Vicky Granger! Now, on to the fic!

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It was the beginning of spring vacation at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and per usual Hermione Granger was sitting comfortably in the library looking forward to having an exhilarating study session. She was enthralled in her Charms book, and was taking notes on Amnis charms that would shoot water out of the tip of one's wand. Hermione's hand was gliding across her parchment with dead accuracy, even though her eyes were scanning her book. This skill came from seven years of notes with a quill pen, and was rather difficult to obtain. Not that Hermione ever dreaded anything difficult, quite the contrary, she relished challenges and took up every extracurricular activity that passed her way. In fact, in her third year at Hogwarts she took every elective that was possible using a time turner and in sacrifice burned herself out. Not that she regretted it…as her obsessiveness had saved a man's life during one twisted night she remembered clearly.

Now, Hermione isn't your average witch in the smallest degree. Her appearance may persuade you otherwise, seeing as her messy hair bun, jeans, and casual wizarding robes aren't exactly stunning, but she has this penetrating glare that when subjected to is known to make teenage boys wet their pants. She has ample proof of this, seeing as in one memorable potions class Draco Malfoy had confirmed it totally. One Potions class, Hermione dropped some draught of porcupine poison on her partner Harry, and he had broken out into nasty boils. Draco laughed, and Hermione glared him into oblivion. Draco had the misfortune of being the arch-nemesis of Hermione's best friends, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. 

In her close trio of friends, Ron was the sarcastic one, Harry was the hero, and Hermione was the witty one. In fact, Hermione had the best marks of all of her year at Hogwarts and was the official Head Girl. She loved her studies immensely, and was relishing her morning in the library. Strangely enough, Hermione's thoughts weren't on the charm she was trying to master. They were instead on the end of the Hogwarts school year, where she would have to leave her school forever. And thus I begin the retelling of Hermione's inner monologue and what became of it.

Amnis…comes…from…the…oh bother I can't concentrate on my work! All of my subconscious rambling is stuck on one stupid question, "What am I going become?" Eurg, I know that sounds terribly cliché, but it's true! For once, I don't have a clue what I'm going to do. After a few months pass I leave Hogwarts forever. When I learned that there isn't any wizard college after Hogwarts I nearly had an ulcer. I mean, after June 15th there are no more notes, no more potions classes, no more measuring how long my essays are, and no more library! That alone could bring tears to my eyes. And plus, I'm not about to enroll myself in some muggle university! I've missed seven years of math, science, language arts, civics…and so much more. I'd fail and then all the integrity I have would go down the eternal toilet of sorrow. 

What do I become? Harry's destined to be something amazing, like a famous Quidditch player or an auror or the bloody Minister of Magic. Ron's remarkable too, and he'll have his spot in the sun. Ah, but everyone thinks that swotty Hermione is going to become the next bloody McGonagall. Contrary to common belief, I'd hate to have to stay in the same institution all of my life, even though at the moment I can't bear leaving Hogwarts. I've been hiding behind books all my life, and even though I'm going to hate coming out, I've got to sometime. My parents have always wanted me to be a doctor...but that is completely out of the question. Hospitals give me the creeps…the never dulling smell of anesthetics and the crisp white sheets covering up freezing bodies beneath. I can't stomach it. I can't stand it. 

But yet, I've been to the Hospital Wing so many times through my loathing of the entire place. The last time I was there was…a week ago. Yea…Harry fell off of his broom during Quidditch practice and landed on Ron. They are such idiots, but hey, they're my best friends, so what can I say? I've been pestering Harry about his weight all week, I mean, come on, he did break Ron's arm. Still, they're hilarious idiots! Ah, but Harry's not fat, far from it. He actually got pretty built over the summer, though I have no idea how with the Dursleys. Heck, he's even pretty attractive…

Woah! Push the pause button, Hermione! Did I just say I think that Harry's attractive!? Did I just tell myself to "push a pause button"? I've been watching way too much muggle television. That stuff really corrupts you...the critics are right. All of that violence and cynicism and sex gets to your head. Harry could get onto some of those television shows; he can fill in the sex part just fine. Ack! Did I just think that? Ew, that's gross. Wait…but it's true. And I'm allowed to think he's attractive if he's my friend, and that's it. Which he is. 

And he's also clumsy, idiotic, hilarious, witty, and he's saved the world…6 times. Yea…baby, first year, second year, fourth year, fifth year, and seventh year. Oh God, I'm still traumatized from our battle this year. I mean, it wasn't _totally_ unexpected. Everyone knew that it would be another "When-Will-Potter-Destroy-Evil" year. Still, it's terrifying when one minute your in detention with Hagrid for learning how to apparate unauthorized, and the next minute the most feared dark lord in the world is sending hexes at you. When I was hit with that curse, I felt a pain so immense I thought that my head was splitting open. Everything was out of focus, and I was searing with white-hot pain. The only things that came to my mind were "get-to-Harry, get-to-Ron, get-to-Harry, get-to-Ron…" and as the fire ebbed, I noticed that I was screaming. So were my companions. I crawled slowly towards them, and my every move was like knives pricking me a thousand times. I grabbed their hands, and we joint-apparated to Hogsmeade. 

I passed out, and woke up in the hospital wing. I cried, one of the only times I've ever let myself cry. It's a sign of weakness, and Hermione Granger is never out of control. The nausea and tears drilled into my mind, and it's one of the lowest places I've been. We could have died. Oh…my…gosh. We could have _died_. I could be looking at some worms underneath the ground instead of my charms book. Oh…my…gosh. Ron could have died with me. And so could have Harry…

Oh no…I do like him. Well, of course I like Harry, he's my best friend. But the question is, do I love him? Do I even know what love is? Well, duh Hermione, of course you do! No matter how much you deny it, Hermione Anne Granger, what you had with your now-only friend Ron in fifth year was love, like it or not. 

Ah, I still remember it. Everything was so awkward. I would find myself writing his name down on my parchment, with no idea _why_, and find myself wishing that Arithmancy had an "o" in is since it already has an "r" and an "n" and then it could spell "Ron". Just looking at Ron made me flush and go all clammy. And when we become official…that was intense. It was amazing and terrifying at the same time. I clung to him like a life preserver. When we had fights, we'd snog and make up instead of the average kiss. When I was sad, he was my pillow to cry on. At every social event, we were the star couple. With me it's always 100% or nothing…and I made it that way. It's the way I work…my personality. Ron just got tired and confused in the complexity of our passion, I guess. I mean, it was lots of stress on fifteen-year-olds. But that was in love. 

And I guess Ron's in love with his current bimbo, Lavender. Gosh, that girl is one inch deep. I only want the best for my friends. And then there's Harry's current love interest, or lack thereof. I can't believe Cho Chang dumped him! That little wench! She had Harry on marionette strings, and broke his heart. I was left to pick up the pieces with Ron. Hold on…am I jealous? Cho had such a power over Harry, and...do I want to have that power? Do I more than like him? Is this love? Or…well…how would I know? I haven't had a guy look at me twice since Ron. I look like a walking brillo pad, and I need dozens of spells to tame this frizzy rubbish I call hair. Nope, not much experience over here. 

Looks like I've finished my charms notes. Three pages long. It was supposed to be one. As always, I'm the overachiever. At least something is predictable in my life…

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And so our story continues. Hermione went into the common room, and passed by Harry. Hermione was engrossed in her thoughts, while Harry was lost in his own.

Crap. That's pretty much how I'm feeling at this current time and place. Yea, crappy. I've got near two months left at Hogwarts, and then I've got to choose a career to do for the rest of my life. I'm so unsure about everything. Nobody really can understand. I'm expected to be great. I'm expected to be the best, and I have to live by the Protagonist Handbook. Being spontaneous is completely out of the question to the whole world out there. I have to live up to what they want. I've done more than most wizards do in their lives. But do they know how hard it is for me? No. They don't know anything. They don't know what it's like to be "The Boy Who Lived". Nobody does except for me. "The Boy Who Lived" is wanted dead, alive, tortured, beheaded, hurt, battered, as an employee, and in bed by some perverse witches who write for the tabloids. "The Boy Who Lived" is going to become "The Boy Who Spontaneously Combusted Under Stress"…

Oh look! There's Hermione! Woah, talk about stress. She's about to give those second years "The Look". Ah, that day when Draco pissed in his pants was priceless! I don't think Ron will ever laugh that hard. We looked like we were going to collapse from lack of oxygen. Not that lack of oxygen with me and Hermione would be that bad…

Did I just think that? Oh gawd, she's right. I _am_ a mass of hormones. Do I…no I will not finish that thought. I don't need any more anxiety at this present time, thank you very much! 

Do I like her?

Ahh! I told myself not to finish that thought! And then, bam!, the first thought that comes to my mind is the one I banned. I'm so unsure about everything right now, and I don't need something else! Oh look, she's waving at me…better go say "hi."

"Hi, Hermione. Whatcha reading?" Harry sat down next to Hermione on the cozy sofa. "_Seems to be going okay. I can't let all of this pent up seriousness show…" _he mused.

"Hey Harry. I'm finishing Charms homework. Can't believe I wrote three pages…I guess I got carried away. I'm just so stressed out…" Hermione sighed deeply. "_I wish you'd carry me away. Far, far away," _she thought silently.

All of a sudden, an apricot owl flew into the fire-lit common room and ran straight into Harry's head. The owl dropped a letter on Harry's lap, and hooted something in owlish. His hooting was roughly translated to "Hail the mighty delivery owl that felled the mighty Harry Potter in one blow!" Or, it could have been, "Woohoo! I rock! Yea baby!", but...you new know with owls. 

Harry opened his letter, and his face dropped.

"Great. Another job offer. Will these people ever stop?"

"What is it for?" questioned Hermione.

"Marmalade. They want me to sell marmalade. What complete rubbish"

Hermione tried to stop herself from laughing, but failed completely. She burst out into giggles, imagining Harry on the cover of a marmalade jar with the little speech bubble reading, "Peachy good!" She had to stuff part of her shirt into her mouth to shut herself up. Harry glared at her.

"Hermione, it's not that funny. I have something near twenty thousand job offers. Including at the Ministry, the Prophet, and as an underwear model for Calvin Cygnus wizard robes. Oh damn it, I'm so confused…what am I going to do after I finished school?"

"You are most certainly not going to be a model, Mr. Heavyweight. I can't believe you broke Ron's arm." Hermione playfully poked Harry's stomach. "Ah, but I was thinking about after leaving Hogwarts too. Are you reading my mind? Stop reading my mind, Harry Potter!" Hermione grinned, but then feeling her smile ebb, continued. "I don't have as many choices as you do, Harry. I've got all of these doubts, and I don't know what I'm going to do!" 

"Did you just say you didn't know something? Aha, Hermione is loosing her touch!" Harry grinned. "_It's so much fun to see Hermione get all tense. She looks so cute when she's angry. Oh gawd, here I go again."_

"Shut UP Harry! I'm serious! This is a life or death decision and I'm going to EXPLODE!" Hermione felt that all too familiar lump in her throat grow bigger. "_Oh no, here come the tears…I can't lose control…_"

"Ugh. Hermione stop… crying." Harry felt tremendously uncomfortable. His best friend was sobbing into his shoulder, in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, with hoards of people staring and giggling. He shrugged that aside as his hormones kicked their way to the controls of his brain. "_Maybe I can get away with putting my arm around her shoulder…there! I can feel her heart beating…she looks so sad. God, I can't stand this. Maybe I can get away with kissing her on the head. Well, it's now or never…"_

"What…what was that?" Hermione looked up from Harry's now soaked shirt. "_I know what that was! He kissed me! Oh…my!"_

"I don't know…" was Harry's feeble answer.

"Oh shut UP, I told you before. You never listen, do you?" said Hermione, bravely, as she grabbed Harry by the collar of his robes and pulled him in for a kiss.

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What they both felt pulsing through them was a mixture of surprise…yea, lots of surprise…but it was mixed with hope, yearning, intoxication, confusion, and remarkably, love. The fervor and compassion of the couple interlocked on the couch sent dramatic waves of emotion spiraling everywhere. Hermione felt her knees turn to putty, and everywhere that Harry touched along her back burned like painless fire. She could feel his heart beat, and that was all that mattered. Harry felt tingles on his lips, and felt jolts of electricity every time that Hermione's and his hands touched. People in the common room stared for a few moments, giggled relentlessly, and then after a while all found excuses to leave, feeling that they were interrupting something important. Harry and Hermione continued their surprising love fest until Ron walked into the common room, and fell over in shock. Then, a very red-faced Harry and Hermione explained to Ron about their sudden face attachment.

"What are you doing?" screamed Ron, getting up off of the floor.

"Erm…" was Harry's not so intelligent answer. 

"Ron, uhh, hehehe...we were..." Hermione stammered, blushing profusely.

"Never mind. Keep on going...don't let little old me stop you," Ron said, looking sheepish. "Knew it would happen sometime or another...platonic my ass..."

Hermione and Harry reddened, and then gawked as Ron walked up the stairs into his doom, shaking his head. Then Harry smiled at Hermione cheekily, and he grabbed her by her waist and kissed her, as she giggled underneath his lips.

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And thus ends today's story of inner monologues, and what becomes of thinking too much. Who knows about tomorrow's tale?

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End Note: Please review! I really want some feedback, I'm trying to develop my writing. Flames are welcome! Anything to keep my head above water. 


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